


Search and Rescue, Elric Style

by letsgooutintherain



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Ed Swears, Ed's a BAMF, Gen, Kidnapping, he's also a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 15:47:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20876717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letsgooutintherain/pseuds/letsgooutintherain
Summary: Up until now Mustang had never sent Ed into an actively hostile situation. Sure his mission usually went south rather quickly, but only after Ed refused to quit poking around. It took a moment of desperation for Mustang to break that resolve. Still, the only one who didn't see anything wrong with sending a kid to save Mustang's kid was Ed.





	Search and Rescue, Elric Style

Cursing silently under his breath Ed pushed himself a little further through the ventilation shaft. He was perfectly normal sized, thank you very much. He was certainly not small. So what if he fit into the shafts when no other soldier could? Didn't mean anything. Well excerpt apparently that he was the only one who could do this mission. He was going to kill the bastard.

But first, Ed pushed himself a little further, first he had to get out of this shaft and find the kid before the ultimatum ran out and forced Mustang's hand. Because apparently his bastard of a superior had procreated. And then someone had gone and kidnapped the boy. Ed would enjoy kicking the living daylights out of the assholes for that.

He reached a grating and glimpsed into the building, trying to orient himself. 

The first thing he registered was how dim the light was. They had darkened the windows of course, not allowing snipers even a glimpse at the inside. Ed had known that. What Ed hadn't expected was the lack of other light sources, which left the whole of the warehouse in some kind of twilight, just enough to see by. 

If this was by design, Ed both wanted to congratulate the assholes and kick their heads in, because in this the blue light of transmutation would be impossible to hide. In other words, he better do all his transmutations now, before he left his hiding place.

Apart from the dim light, there were the kidnapping assholes. About six of them Ed could see huddled together in the open area to the front of the warehouse near the door, involved in a heated discussion loud enough that it would hopefully mask any noise of Ed's eventual descent from the vents. 

Another hand full moved around the edges of the room with just enough of a pattern to it to suggest guard duty. Which told him they were at least intelligent enough to recognize that every wall was a point of entry to a skilled alchemist. They had still neglected the vents, ceiling and floor, but they were a step up from Ed's usual bad guys. He did not like it. And it would not stop him from kicking their asses. 

He couldn't see the kid. The first half of the warehouse, where the main group was, was cluttered with boxes and crates, which would give him some measure of cover, but not enough to stay out of sight indefinitely. It also might hide the kid, but Ed suspected he was at the other end of the warehouse where someone had built cubicles, leaving lots of hiding places. At least one guy stood in there, his head rising above the partitions. Ed really hoped he was the guard for the kid, otherwise he would have trouble solving this before Mustang's ultimatum was up. 

Well, there was nothing for it. Transmutations first. Figuring out a way over there second. 

He withdrew from the grating, just in case, and contemplated what he even could transmute. His automail blade was useful, but unwieldy for getting out of the vents stealthily. But he should have a knife, just in case. Knives were useful and if he was going in without his alchemy he should have some tools at hand. And a rope or he would never get down from here without being seen. 

Giving his automail thumb a sharp edge wasn't difficult, but the best he could do with not much other material at hand. And the rope... well, Mustang would owe him a new coat after this. 

Unscrewing the grating took its sweet time, but finally it was done and the still ongoing discussion would have to do as noise cover went. He really hoped no-one would look in his direction, then looped the rope through the grating so that both ends dangled to the ground, conveniently hidden behind a few crates. At least as long as no-one looked up. 

Ed took another deep breath, then carefully slid out of the opening, clinging to the edge with one hand. With the other he pulled the grating back over as far as it would go, but turned in such a way that it should hold his weight. Then he grabbed the rope and climbed down as fast as he could.

No-one shouted. No-one shot at him and even better no-one threatened to shoot the kid if he didn't come out. Good. He pulled on one end of the rope until it had unspooled from the grating and caught the other end when it finally fell down. All right. No obvious traces of his descent.

The sound of arguing still came from his left and from down here Ed could grasp a few words. Money. Of course they were arguing about money. He rolled his eyes and concentrated on his immediate surroundings. There were crates stacked all around in a state of chaos, probably left behind from whenever this had been an actual warehouse and not the lair of some wannabe bad guy who's ass Ed was going to kick. 

Ed started to move, stayed low (no, that was not easier for him, shut up) and peered out from the corners, but the further to the back of the warehouse he got the more his cover thinned out. At first it was small gaps, where it was enough to wait out the guard rounds, before he could move from one to the next, but there were more now and no longer cover from all sides. 

Nothing for it. There was an ultimatum and sooner or later it was going to run out. The clock was ticking. Which meant he couldn't stay hidden forever. 

Ed took a deep breath and peered out from behind his latest hiding place. As much hindrance as the dim light was, now it worked to Ed's advantage too. It would work even better if Ed could have darkened his hair beforehand, but it was too late to transmute a cover now. Screw it.

He watched the guard moving along, the other too close behind to give him more than a few seconds after the first crossed the corner. And his next cover only covered him from two sides. Ed breathed, readied himself to clap and then sprinted over. 

No one shouted. No-one opened fire. He breathed. And breathed, watched the guards. Moved. Pulse pounding in his ears. 

And there were the cubicles. Better for hiding. Also a whole three meters from where Ed was crouched with no cover whatsoever. He looked for the guards again. One on the round to his left, who looked in the direction where the voices were coming from. One coming up on his right, fingers tapping on his gun in a bored rhythm, but still looking around. Fuck.

What Ed needed was a distraction. He closed his eyes. How long did he have? How long could he afford to wait? 

And could he afford to get caught? Either he was shot or he became a second bargaining tool. Neither was an option. 

And Mustang had said to try. He didn't expect miracles, but... he had stopped there, the please hanging unsaid between them, before the man turned sharply away. "Don't take unnecessary risks," he'd said half over his shoulder, before stalking over to Fuery. 

Ed bared his teeth. He had wanted to see Mustang lose his cool. Had dreamed about it often enough. He never wanted it to happen like this.

Well, who decided what was considered an unnecessary risk anyway? 

The arguing got louder, maybe enough to turn heads, and Ed didn't hesitate. One step, two steps, three, four and he was ready to let himself fall to the ground, ready to clap and draw up a wall to hide behind. Ready for anything really, but the world stayed silent, or rather, the arguing kept going. And then Ed was in the first cubicle and vanished under the dusty desk. 

For a few seconds he allowed himself to just breathe. He breathed. He could do this. All he had to do was find the kid, take down a guard without alerting the rest of the men, unless he wanted to test out how well those thin cubicle walls held under fire. Then he had to get himself and the kid out without either of them getting killed. Ed swallowed. One step at a time. 

He had understood from the start that no-one really expected him to pull this off successfully. It was the last desperate effort of a man with his back to the wall. For all that Mustang was an ass, he had never deliberately sent Ed into combat. Until now. Ed understood why. He was also terrified. There was a little kid's life depending on him. He probably wouldn't sleep for a week after this. Fuck. FUCK.

He shouldn't have stopped, should have let that momentum carry him through the rest of the mission, instead of thinking. Fuck. All right. He could do this. He took a last deep breath, then moved from under the desk. 

There should only be the one guard in the middle of the cubicles. Some at the edges, patroling the outer wall of the perimeter, but for some reason they had put the kid in the middle. At least he hoped so. There were not many other places they could have hid him. Fuck. His hand was shaking, so he clenched it into a fist. The automail was steady as always. 

He stayed low and moved through the thin corridors, pausing at the intersections to see where he was going. Left here. Another corridor. This one led to one of the outer walls so Ed slid into another cubicle until the guard was past. 

How long did he have until the ultimatum was up? He could look at his watch, but that would take time. He breathed, got back on the corridor. 

Another intersection. And there. There was the lone guard. Tall, bald. Built like a tank, big gun pointed to the floor. He stood right in the entrance of a cubicle, fingers fidgeting, glancing inside and down every now and again. He was very obviously bored. Probably thought he'd get warned by the other guards, before having to deal with danger himself. Well, tough luck, he was about to get an Ed shaped problem. Just as soon as Ed figured out how best to take him down. And what to do if he didn't manage to do it silently.

Well, if they started to shoot he could draw up walls. That would work, right until their alchemist decided to get hands on and without Al there to deflect bullets from the kid, they would be screwed. All right. He could do it silently. Probably. Maybe. 

Fuck it. It wasn't as if he had much of a choice. 

Ed looked around and found the forgotten cap of a pen. All right then. When the guard looked in the wrong direction, Ed threw the cap over the cubicles walls into the one the kid was in. There was a high pitched sound of a young voice and a silent clatter and the guard turned around.

Ed sprinted forward, the guard whirled around again, gun rising up. Ed was faster, grabbed at the man's throat with his automail, before the gun was even halfway up, hooked a leg behind the man's knee and then pulled the leg, pushed at the throat and the man toppled over, choking from the grip at his throat, head hitting the ground hard. 

Ed didn't dare let go of the throat and pressed harder as the man tried to draw air, choked again with a wheezing wet noise, tried to buck Ed off, fingers now prying at his automail. Ed pulled back with the other arm and let his elbow connect with the man's head. Mercifully he went still. 

Ed felt nausea bubble up, but this was not the time. He was definitely not going to sleep for a week. Fuck. But there were still no warning shouts. Had he been silent enough? The argument loud enough to mask anything? If they decided to sneak up on him Ed wouldn't hear them coming any more than they'd heard him. Fuck. 

Slowly he looked up. There was the kid. Small, black hair just like Mustang's, huddled into a small ball, his hands and feet drawn together by rope, a gag in his mouth and wide eyes glued to Ed.

Right. Kid. He could be strong for the kid. All he had to do was convince it he was fine and that he was still in control of this situation. He could do it. He did it with Al all the time.

"Hey there," Ed whispered and slowly moved closer until he could unknot the gag. The kid kept staring at him. Probably about seven years old. Half as old as Ed.

Ed flashed him a grin, hoping to set him at ease. 

A heartbeat and then the kid whispered back: "I know you. You're the Fullmetal Alchemist."

"That's me," Ed agreed and moved on to the rope, trying the knot first, before using the sharp thumb instead.

"My dad complains a lot about you and the paperwork you cause him," the boy whispered. There were tear tracks on his face, but at least he was somewhat calm.

"Right," Ed muttered, too occupied with the last of the rope to feel more than a small stab of annoyance at the bastard's opinion. As the last of the rope fell away, the kid looked up at him, still with those wide eyes and shaking just a little. Ed had to get him out of here. Both of them and preferably without an injury on the kid's part. He couldn't guarantee the same for himself. Not with the odds staked against him this high.

But he wouldn't be able to do even that if the kid was too afraid to move. The argument on the other end of the warehouse was still ongoing, so he could risk letting the kid talk a little longer.

"Okay kiddo, what else did your dad tell about me?" Ed asked, chancing a glance out into the corridor. It was empty.

"That you're a brat," the kid whispered back, "And that you can't go anywhere without him getting complaints about explosions and leveled buildings."

And just like that the spark of annoyance flared up. It was not enough to smother the rapid beat of his heart, but it was enough to push some bravado to the forefront. Ed glared. "Typical. All complaints and no praise. I'm gonna give that bastard a piece of my mind when we are back."

The boy grinned at that, a small wobbly grin, but still a grin. "He also said you have a short temper, a bad mouth and don't respect him."

"I am not short!" Ed hissed reflexively. The grin on the boy's face widened.

Ed took a deep breath, allowed the annoyance to flare a little bit brighter still. "All right. You're gonna get a piece of my mind too when we're out of here." Maybe threatening a kid that had already been kidnapped wasn't the best strategy, but Ed was lucky and the grin only lessened a little.

"Now, did your dad ever tell you why he puts up with all of that if it's so bad?" Ed asked, forcing the conversation back to its original goal.

The boy shook his head.

"That's because I'm good at what I do. How often did he complain about me failing a mission?"

The boy's eyes had gone wide. "Never," he whispered.

"Okay. Then lets make this one thing clear before everything else. Right now, you are my mission. I'm gonna get you out of here. I can't promise not to cause a few explosions on the way or to watch my language while I'm doing it, but I'm going to get you home. Do you understand?"

The boy nodded again. 

"All right kiddo. Then keep close to me and do as I say. Come on."

He chanced a last glance out into the still empty corridor. 

Tunneling out would take too long. He'd never get out before they reached him. If he could reach the wall, he could transmute his way through, but for that he had to get past the guards. If he found a defendable position and managed to alert Mustang the soldiers could subdue the kidnappers, but until they managed that, Ed would be in here alone with a lot of lunatics who's first goal would be to get their hands on their bargaining tool, before Mustang could torch them all. On the other hand, if Ed managed to alert them, he'd alert Al too. Al who was ready to transmute another wall open.

And then a loud "Enough. We get the kid and we get out of here," was shouted over the other arguments and they were out of time. 

Ed grabbed the fallen gun in one hand, the kid's hand in the other and hastened back down the corridor and into another cubicle closer to the wall. Wouldn't be long before they found the guard and from then on it was only a matter of time till they found them.

"Fuck it," he whispered. He'd give them something to worry about. 

He looked critically at the gun for a second. He hated those things, but that didn't mean he didn't know how to use one. Surprisingly enough it had been Breda who had drawn him and Al aside and told them even if they never intended to use one, knowledge was power. Then he talked them through gun safety and how they worked. How to clean them. He taught them to shoot, even though Al needed to modify a gun to even be able to put a finger on the trigger and Ed had to do it left handed. He had hated every second of it.

Now he was grateful, because he knew how the trigger worked, he had gunpowder at hand. The bastard complained about explosions? Ed would give him an explosion. And if they were about to be discovered anyway... He clapped, rearranged the gunpowder inside a single big shell, made sure it would ignite on impact and then threw it at the nearest outer wall, before ducking back down.

It occurred to him, as he pulled the kid down, that he should have calculated how much power the bomb had, but it was way too late for that.

BOOM.

Ed winced at the sound, his ears rang and then shots started to ring out, people shouted. There was more light than before. He didn't chance a glance in the direction, didn't dare look how much damage he had done. They needed to move and not that way. It might be a way out, but it was also where all the bullets were going. Which meant Ed needed to choose another direction.

He grabbed the kid's hand again, checked the corridor and then took the direction Al should come in from. With the front entrance that made three places they had to worry about now. Too many to leave men to look for Ed and the kid. Hopefully. Maybe. 

Ed turned another corner, glimpsed men at another intersection and drew back. Shots rang out from all directions now. From the front door. From where Al was going to come in. 

He pushed the kid back where they came from and chose another direction, glanced into the next corridor. It was free. Hands poised to clap, Ed entered it.

There was a flash of fire lighting the warehouse up even more. And then "Daddy!" the kid shouted. 

And just like that, Ed knew, every bad guy still in the warehouse had honed in on them. 

"Fuck," he cursed. 

The kid turned to him wide eyed. 

Ed just grabbed his hand and started to run. "No, he's that way," the kid protested and Ed didn't have time for this. 

They made it one corridor, before a man stepped into their path. He didn't have a gun, didn't look like the rest of the guards. He was no soldier. 

That really just left one kind of opponent, so he let go of the kid to have his hands free.

"Stay behind me," Ed said without letting the guy out of his sight. There was a cubicle open to his left, if he needed to jump out of the way, but then he'd be trapped until he could transmute a way out. Fuck.

"The Fullmetal Alchemist," the man sneered, "So Mustang sent a kid to save a kid. Makes you think, doesn't it?"

Ed bared his teeth. But as long as they were talking they weren't fighting. And the longer they were talking the more likely it was for guys with guns to show up. The way Ed's luck was going it was not going to be the one's from his side.

"Says the guy who thought kidnapping was a good idea," Ed called, "And I'm not a-" kid he wanted to say, but the man smirked, something blue sparked on his shoes and suddenly spikes were racing at him. 

Ed grabbed the kid and threw them both into the cubicle, clapped and slammed his hands down, rapidly pushing the ground from under and around them outwards in all directions, pushing desks and cubicle walls away as it raised a low barrier moving away from them.

He left one small opening, grabbed the kid's arm and pulled it to its feet. 

Behind them the barrier lit up blue, but they were out again and back in another half destroyed cubicle. Ed dragged the kid forwards, sprinting down another corridor, trying to orient himself, changed directions twice, hoping to shake the alchemist. 

This should be Al's direction. Where...? He rounded a corner and nearly ran into two guys with guns. They were not wearing Amestrian blue. Ed didn't dare slow down, slammed his automail fist into the face of the first, kicked after the second. 

Behind him the kid shrieked in alarm and Ed caught sight of the alchemist again, so he ducked low, clapped and sent a giant fist after the alchemist, hoping to distract him long enough to win the other fight, but the first soldier hadn't gone down, the second had lost his gun, but was already grabbing for it.

And then Al was there like a giant living shield between them and the guards and Ed had rarely been more grateful to see him. 

Still on the ground he clapped, let the fist grab at that alchemist again, who had dodged the first try. The man sneered and his shoes sparked blue, sending his transmutation right at Ed's. 

Ed's eyes widened. You absolutely did not power two opposed working arrays unless you wanted a rebound. He'd kill both of them. But the man didn't know or didn't care.

Ed let go of the transmutation, made a grab for the kid and wrenched them both out of the way of the spikes. 

Behind him Al's armor clattered and Al shouted "Ed." Suddenly sounding young and frightened. 

Ed growled. Absolutely no-one touched Al. 

He slammed his hands down with another transmutation, let the ground propel him up and forward, right into the alchemist and rammed his automail into his torso. It gave way and the man screamed. Ed hit his head for good measure, this time with his flesh fist and he went down. Fuck, he felt sick, but this wasn't done.

Al had fought the soldiers, if they ... 

He whirled around, right in time to see a wall of fire light up between them and whatever remained of the enemies. 

Al was there, half propped up by the spikes running through him, still moving, frantically working on drawing a circle to get himself free, the kid on the ground, in as small a ball as he could make himself. And over it all Mustang, array sparking, gaze frantically going from Ed to Al and finally landing on the kid. 

"Aaron!" Mustang called and climbed over the debris to reach them. 

And then Hawkeye was there, crouching down next to him. "Ed. Are you all right? Are you hurt?"

Ed managed to shake his head. "I'm fine." And another time, louder, so Al could stop swinging between his array and looking for Ed. He had to get up. Get to Al and repair his armor. He got about halfway, before his flesh leg gave out under him. He felt shaky all over, now that the fighting was done. He still felt sick, but he wasn't about to show any more weakness in front of her and Mustang than he had to.

Not that Mustang was seeing any of them, too occupied with cradling his kid close and maintaining that wall of fire, with occasional shots still ringing out outside of it. Ed looked away and tried to get to his feet again. 

There was a spark of blue on Al's end and then his armor clattered to the ground. 

Hawkeye took his flesh arm and helped pull him the rest of the way up. A part of him wanted to shake her off. He couldn't show too much weakness or they'd remember that he was fourteen, too young to be here, and they'd try to shelter him when that was the last thing he needed. Not if it kept him away from looking for the stone. 

But she wanted to help and probably was what one would get if one mixed Teacher with Granny and it was never wise to disagree with either of them. So he sent her a smile instead and allowed her to steady him on his own way over the rubble, over to Al.

Al reached for him, grabbed his hand, automail to armor, so that neither had to watch their strength and for a moment Ed just held on. 

"Are you all right?" Al asked.

Ed nodded.

Outside of the fire wall it was finally silent. 

Al let him go and Ed breathed and then surveyed the damage. One spike had pierced Al's torso, another had gone through his leg. Al had lost his foot to another spike, where it now hung a few feet away from them. 

"Could you get his foot?" Ed asked Hawkeye, who was still hovering over them. 

She nodded and Ed looked at Al. "Ready?" 

Al nodded. Ed clapped and closed the hole's, one after the other and finally added the foot. 

When he was done, Hawkeye had moved away and back to Mustang and the fire had vanished sometime while he hadn't paid attention. 

"Let's get out of here," he muttered. 

Al nodded and helped him back to his feet. 

Ed didn't look back as they walked away, Al close to him, trying not to show he was hovering and obviously failing, but Ed was too tired to tell him so.

They had made it about ten steps, before: "Fullmetal!"

Ed stopped, looked half over his shoulder at Mustang. Mustang who still held his son close, but now looked at him and Al with an uncertainty Ed had never seen before. 

"Thank you."

And Ed hated him for that, just a little. If the man had been his usual asshole self, Ed could have fought back. Could have pulled his tattered defenses back up and snarked or even shouted. 

Instead he felt raw and too open. 

"Whatever, Bastard," he replied and managed to drag up a smirk, "You can deal with the paperwork for the explosion."

Mustang frowned, but didn't rise to the bait. Ed resisted the urge to bare his teeth at him.

"Havoc will drive you back," Mustang said, "Take a week off."

Ed just nodded. He wanted to be out of here. Wanted less eyes on him, so he turned away and started walking. 

They were outside when Havoc caught up with them. Havoc who had been the one to tell him he didn't have to go in, who had looked unhappy when Ed told him he'd go anyway. 

"Where to, Boss?" Havoc asked.

"The hotel," Al replied.

He sagged into Al's side once they sat down. Al who was solid and moving and not seriously hurt. Because Ed had grabbed the kid and not Al and Al had paid the price. And just because he knew that Al would most likely be fine when the kid wouldn't have been, still didn't mean it was okay. 

He pushed the thought away. It wouldn't help anyone. He breathed. 

Al looked at him, looked at Havoc, looked back at Ed and then turned to Havoc again and started a conversation about cats, drawing the last of the attention of Ed. Ed closed his eyes and felt the last of the tension bleed out of him. 

He'd pay for this adventure later in nightmares and stressed muscles, but for now they had survived. They could keep looking for the stone. He breathed.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that turned out a little less lighthearted than I planned. Also, writing gen for FMA day seems to become a theme with me.  
Anyway. Happy FMA day, everyone, thank you for reading :)


End file.
